


Make me cold

by uchihas1000



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: I HAD to write them awkward dancing in a ballroom for ONCE in my life, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 14:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uchihas1000/pseuds/uchihas1000
Summary: In an attempt to start where they left, he ends up dancing with the ghost of expectations. A lot of champaign. Not enough to cope.





	Make me cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, yes the rumors are true i am alive. No, i have no idea when i'll update exulansis, but i am plotting and doing some research now that exams are finally over. In the meantime, have this short old one i wrote two years ago or sth when i though they had a chance :')

He found himself looking at the suit he had no will to wear on a ceremony he had no will to go on an hour of the day, rather night, he best be asleep. Maybe because he didn’t like adorning himself for things like that; maybe because the huge crowds of investigators filling the ballroom demanded too much small talk for a night he could spend ideally home ,or less ideally on some lone corner drinking his champagne. Or maybe he just felt a funny annoyance creep in him when Saiko gives him her mischievous smirks after he’s all fixed and lustrous. 

It was a black suit especially tailored for his body, emphasizing his best traits, but failing to minimize his sleep -deprived, exhausted posture form the previous mission. It maybe just got worse and worse, but he’s learning to live with the “If I own too many stripped suits maybe they will get distracted away from my weeks old eye bags” motto. It mostly worked. He just didn’t want to look in ruins. However good Saiko managed to teach him how a concealer worked, he was as good as a phantom punched on both eyes.

He had to go. Because he was Squad Leader? He needed to represent his squad someway with their collective eyes of the dead and bad inside jokes. Because he might get promoted? It passed his mind a couple of times, but it didn’t land a weight heavy enough in his head to make him attend a huge event like that. It would have in the past, it was somehow tasteless now.

To see Mutsuki?

_Guilty._

It had been almost two years since Mutsuki had transferred from their squad to god knows where. Everywhere. He had tried all the violent, low class, high class, filthy, demanding squads the CCG had popped out of the academy. He has probably experienced working under all the kinds of lunatic, bloodthirsty, aggressive, sadistic head. At some point, it looked like he was on a quest to make himself miserable. He wanted to get in touch with him again, and hopefully not on the verge of collapsing as he was.

The last time he saw him was at a meeting two weeks ago on a co-investigation they had with the squad Mutsuki was in. A squad filled with calculating sociopaths that were good at small talk and knew how to make compliments. He wanted to know how Mutsuki ended up there, and how was he so good at not showing a single speck on discomfort around them, somehow knowing how to pull each of their strings with a sharp wit. It stirred up his insides, make his hand itch, cracked a cold line of sweat down his spine. How formally friendly they were, how professional. How precise. He even had to stop Saiko from almost smacking the Special class Squad Leader with her game console. Competent-sounding, bureaucratic bastards. 

The next day, the second Saturday of the month, was the day of the ceremony. The day in which he would wear his god damn suit, lock his breath in to not let any inconvenient complain slip his lips and conceal his miserable condition with his best posture that would take a toll on him for four hours. That was the plan, and Saiko might help with… actually nothing . She’d indulge in cocktails, living the drunkard’s life she would never be allowed to live in the chateau ,and probably leave him helplessly try to survive some small talk with any investigator that, for some bizarre reason, couldn’t get the signals to keep their distance. They had gained quite the popularity as prototypes among their peers and chiefs, so it was no surprise.

Standing in front of the lateral mirror in his room, he fixed his collar, secured his French cuffs, fastened the top button of his suit jacket, gelled a couple of hair that had slipped back with the rest, sprayed his usual cologne that he hoped would camouflage the turpentine that had literally seeped to his bone marrow now, and made his way out. Saiko had upgraded to the “more skin less clothing” since the last couple of ceremonies they had attended. She wore a black dress that shimmered under the small chandelier of the living room with a little bit of bare back and cleavage making their comeback more and more dramatic each ceremony. Hsiao wore something elegant and classy; a tight off shoulder navy blue dress that was washed in an attractive simplicity. Higemaru and Aura also seemed to have gotten used to the dress code since the first time they attended a ceremony like this.

Entering the ballroom, there was no doubt almost a hundred people would crowd every square inch of the room, and Urie’s first instinctive thought was, you guessed it, to calculate a corner in which he could drink his champagne unbothered. The stiff air composed of a mixture of rich fragrances pierced his nostrils and soaked his stomach with nausea.

Dimitri Shostakovich’s second walz was being played by the orchestra. Even though he wasn’t the least knowledgeable when it came to classical music, this particular piece was the one that seemed to have woken some childhood memories from hibernation. This was the piece that was being played the first time he had ever attended the ceremony; just a little kid looking up to his parents’ almost grandiose presence as they split the crowd almost in half making their way in. He wished he could have inherit just a little of their grace, at least imprinted it mindlessly the few years they were able to live before dying the aimless death almost everyone in this ballroom would in the future. Ironic, how they celebrated promotion as if it didn’t bring them closer to their last days.

He stepped in the crowd and ignored the eyes redirecting their attention on their every move. Eyes filled with curiosity, dismissal, malice, wonder. Mouths commenting, praising, exchanging rumors, venomous. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he could definitely differentiate the distinct tones that started out sentences with different intentions. He pulled an unbothered expression from the collection of many more unbothered expressions he could choose from and pierced his way amidst the crowd.

Just as he thought he could feel Saiko’s presence behind his back, she had already slyly escaped his circle with a “Goodbye, handsome.” And approached the cocktail table with Higemaru who seemed to have been dragged there, but regretting nothing on his way. Hsiao was already indulging herself in a satisfying conversation while Aura seemed to have found his aunt pretty quickly among the crowd of people. Even he had someone to spend the evening with. What was left for him to do is retreat to his table with the champagne he usually relies on to knock him out although he’s pretty aware his ferocious alcohol durability. And maybe wait for Kuroiwa’s father to give him his usual gratifying and mighty pat in the shoulder for still being alive and on good shape. It used to annoy him beyond comprehension, but it’s something to look forward to on dull nights of this sort.

As he sat his usual seat and observed with an oblivious expression all the alcohol driven giggles and made over faces, he enjoyed the tingling burns of the champagne down his throat as the air grew more and more solid against his nostrils. The mess of fragrances that managed to stir the still alcohol resting on his stomach however couldn’t succeed to conceal a familiar scent, somehow adorned with a flowery sweetness but still sharp. He wasn’t aware of its origin until he raised his sight and picked out a whitewashed mint head from the middle of the crowd and the profile of the face that came with it. From what he could make out, he wore a black three piece, which fit him perfectly, tailored with an accuracy that made his body graceful and attractive however small it looked from afar. Mutsuki seemed to be involved in a conversation with two other investigators he could unfortunately recognize the faces of _(the bureaucratic sociopaths)_ , and the way in which malice seemed to intertwine in their formally polite, calm faces as they stared at him with curious eyes. The familiar disturbance manifested itself in the way his pulse was throbbing against his neck, building up, and how his knuckles were whitewashed under tense skin. He was unaware of the violently clenched jaw that invaded his headspace with a white muffled noise, until he raised his glass against his lips but couldn’t pull them apart.

The two men seemed to not be too informed about the matter of personal space, as they almost suffocated his presence with their tall figures, however hard he tried to maintain his distance. He was considering making an appearance to the _gentlemen_ but it nearly slipped his mind Mutsuki was more than capable of earning his own space. Looking back at them, their synthetic smiles seemed to have been infected with a disturbed bitterness as Mutsuki seemed to have spoken unsatisfying words. It didn’t reflect one drop on his collected expression though, as he gave one last polite nod before moving away from them, their faces washed in annoyance. Urie sighed amusingly, he gulped down his last champagne drops.

_(Entitled bastards)_

Saiko was lingering at the cocktail table still, this time with a fancy drink on one hand and her best flirtatious smile on her face which was either activated from the alcohol kicking in or it’s one of her usual shenanigans. She really did know how to not bore herself to death. Just as he managed to steal another champagne glass from the ones being served around and fill up his thoughts attention with the acerbity crawling down his chest, he picked out the familiar scent approaching, but could see him nowhere. He decided to make use of those legs of his and move around hoping to see him on the way.

Of course his way would never be too clear as to lead him directly to his scent obviously, like every other time he has tried to catch up to him in any way. The mighty figure of Special Class Investigator Kuroiwa blocked most of his field of vision, with his usual fatherly proud smile, not to obvious, a little fierce looking, but still showing on his features, and thick dark eyebrows that were exhaustingly hard to ignore. He could already predict the steps as to which he would congratulate him on still being alive before even getting promoted.

One. Pat his shoulder like his life depended on it.

Two. Relieve hand from shoulder. Scan his entire head to toe view. And congratulate him on being on good shape. Even though half of the time he could fall asleep on his damn feet and let his eye bags weight him down on the ground.

Three. Involve on the excruciatingly painful small talk on how training with his squad went and how was he handling the demanding life of a squad leader.

And apparently with an upgraded step four. Chain him in more small talk he had no intention on keeping alive for the sake of his sanity, as he picked out Mutsuki again, this time indulged in a seemingly satisfying conversation just a couple of feet away from him with Aura Shinsanpei. Where is his aunt when Urie needs her the most…

Urie’s lack of interest seemed to not have seeped into the tall investigator’s radars, as he kept bringing up more and more random topics of discussion, however hard Urie tried to keep an eye on his actual topic of interest who was busy cracking up on Aura’s demonstration of a supposed magic trick. The quickened tempo of the orchestrated music was not helping with his restlessness either, as he wished he could just evaporate out of the huge man’s sight for the first time in forever. At this point he might be looking desperate enough as to throw his gaze once in a while in their direction quite obviously, which Aura caught the intention of. He excused himself finally with a quick smiled shoot at the man, ambling straight at Mutsuki as if he would vanish any moment .

Approaching his back, he could already sense Aura’s face opposite him , washing its shy amusement with a neutral ,almost hostile look. 

“Excuse me, Rank two Shinsanpei, I’d like to have a word with,” as if he had forgot how he looked for a moment, he made a quick eye contact with him, who seemed to be a bit dumbfound by his sudden appearance. “Rank one Mutsuki.”

“S-sure. I’ll see you around, Tooru-san.”

“(Oh, would you fucking look at that. Wasn’t it sensei two months ago?)” He had to invest almost half of his will power to restrain a spontaneous eye roll that would have given off a really unprofessional, out of character taste to his role. He was his superior, he knew better.

“Urie…so you did come. I saw everyone around but you. Dozing off again on your champagne corner?” He didn’t have his eyepatch on, and both the orbit of his emerald eyes, sparkling with the reflection of the chandelier in front of him, were piercing straight at him, which was enough of a distraction to completely brush off his last remark. He could look at his full profile now, mint hair brushed on one side, the circles under his eyes faintly visible but less competitive than his, his usual soft features accompanied by a radiant dominance emitting through his posture. A lot of firsts.

“Do you dance?” Urie blurted.

“You must be shitting me now...”

“Not at all. Come, I can teach you.”

“But-“

“Trust me. You won’t die.”

“I’ll step on you.”

“Nch, I won’t die either.” 

The tempo of the music finally took a lungful and slowed down, allowing them to hold a conversation as they swayed on the limited space. They placed their hands on each other cautiously, as if one of their bodies would break, before relieving any tension and letting them weigh on their place. Mutsuki could feel his partner’s breath against his right temple as if all the nerve endings resided there, magnified and tingling. He gulped ,and released a prolonged breath.

“How is investigation going with the new team? They looked pretty….amiable.”

“Hard to say. I’m considering transferring again. Rather, I’ll request one. “

“They seemed to be cooperative last meeting though.”

“Let’s just say they have a hard time respecting limits. And I might have popped one guy’s nose out not accidentally during training.”

“Then he must have deserved it. But keep in mind they’re human. It might take him some time to heal.”

“He’ll be fine. He’ll know better next time…How about you? Are you keeping up? When was the last time you slept?”

“(with what, missing you?) Hard to say.” He smirked bitterly. He touched him where it hurt.

“You look handsome today though. “

“U-uh, you too.” He was caught off guard because he had been side eying his profile for a while now, how his lips pursed after every pause of his speech, how he puffed warm breaths on his neck when he spoke, how his jaw pierced through his soft features, how his lips parted when he was about to let words seep out. 

The space between them for a while now was filled with the symphonious music and it became slower and slower, calmer and calmer, as if pushing them to speak more, before it exploded into rhythmic tunes. They could hear music, but the space around them was vacuum; nothing made a movement, even their breaths were calculated, their warmth dissolving fast on thin air. He wanted to know more about him, but he could only crack his skull open to ever find out more. He felt the usual lock pierce his lips, no words ever coming out.

He had been completely zoned out, habituating his body with the man’s warmth against it, with the way his gentle hand squeezed his shoulder whenever he accidentally stepped on him, as he worded a small apology, how his other hand felt complementary to him. And just as he thought he could enjoy this,them, for a little longer, he felt the warmth pull away, the pressure lacking on his shoulder and an almost instinctive urge commanded his muscles to resist to the body pulling away, keeping it engulfed. But then his senses where on air again, and he felt the music had been due stopped, and most of the other couples that they had been dancing around had been replaced with new faces.

“Urie, the music stopped. “ He had to have his voice pierce his ears to crack some consciousness back at him. He realized he had been holding maybe just a little too firmly on his waist and let him go immediately realizing how uncomfortable it might have made him feel. However he was still holding his hand on the initial position.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out.”

“Are you alright?”

“When will you visit again?” He blurted this following no apparent logic of conversing except the one his overthinking brain always did.

“I-, Urie, I can’t promise anything for a while. I’m sorry… I’ll see you around then.” The hurried smile he gave before extending his arm out clasped in his before he left, the way he averted his eyes to his feet, how he could have let go of his hand but still held on it as he gravitated further and further away from him, it cracked something on his chest; it breathed a glacial breath down his lungs and he wanted to hold him again but he could only watch him blend into the crowd and vanish before his sight. And he was left to only occupy a certain surface area on the ballroom, dumped and silly looking on the eyes of the many people surrounding the place. He stared back at his hand, and its existence dared him to think it wasn’t real.

A dejected whisper left his lips unconsciously, thinking no one could hear it; he wished he couldn't hear it. 

“He left again.”


End file.
